The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

Miss. church turns back clock by refusing to marry black couple
By end of Pooh movie, I wanted to stay in the Hundred-Acre Wood
Humans are most heroic in small moments of caring for each other
Ignorant economic reporting doesn’t help an equally ignorant public
AUDIO: Someone holding a grudge feels like poison from the past
Nature’s renewal and growth boost my hope for my own life each year
Choice of spouse alters everything about future for you and your kids